Convexity
by ArdanTheWolf
Summary: Sequal to Magic. When Spyro is plagued by increasingly vivid visions of a terrible war, he is forced to look into his dark side, and learn the terrible secrets of Convexity, and its relation to Magic. M for violence, language, possible explicit scenes, etc.
1. Chapter 1

**_Just Some Bad Dreams_**

* * *

**FUCK YEAH!**

...

Best starting words ever. So, I wasn't kidding when I said sequel. Just know that this one won't be nearly as happy as Magic.

And, for those of you complaining about Orion, whether in PM or review (you know who you are), know that it will be explained here. All of it.

Also, Ardan will be in this story, but not as you'd expect. Or, very much as you'd expect. I don't fucking know. Just read it!

* * *

Blinding light. Burning infernos. Mountains shattered. Cities annihilated. Parents executed in front of their enslaved children. The dragons massacred quickly, the cheetahs hunted for sport. No green left on the land, and the once-blue sea forever stained red with the blood of thousands.

Creatures from the depths of Convexity step forth to wage an unholy war against the living. Enemies of the world thought long dead return with a vengeance. All will be engulfed in blood, fire, and ultimate perdition.

Spyro, the legendary war hero shoots forward, desperate to put an end to the carnage around him. His jaw latches on to the neck of a twisted monstrosity that resembles a massive dragon. Using all of his strength, Spyro pulls the abomination downward, flipping its entire body onto its back and shattering its neck. With that foe dead, he looks over the rest of the battlefield.

Every able-bodied dragon is there, including every Guardian that yet lives. Ember, Flame, and their older children are seen battling fiercely against a large force of dark creatures. Cynder, the love of his life and his fellow Guardian, uses her unique (and highly evolved) abilities to dominate the very minds of her enemies. Entire armies of darkness are forced to fight each other, all the while wailing in terror and agony that even their damnations could not match.

Io had been taken with the rest of the young children, sick, and disabled by the old Guardians. They could not speak of their destination, for fear of mind-controlled spies, but assured that it was safe.

This gives Spyro the strength he needed to continue fighting. The fact that his daughter may have a future beyond this hell gives him hope. He tears through several other monsters, until Cynder is within ear-shot. He begins to shout an order to her, but his words are caught in his throat as something happens.

Beyond his mate are his two best friends. Flame and Ember fight desperately, but cannot defeat the hordes. Everyone is occupied except Spyro, who is too far away to help. He tries to fly to them, can only watch as Ember is savagely beaten by the abominations, while Flame is pinned by dark giants.

Flame's screams can be heard across the field as he unleashed his pain and rage, a fury decimating the creatures around him. When his enemies are naught but ash, he rushes to his mate's side, desperate to save her. However, he is too late, and all he can do is comfort her in her final moments.

More monsters surround them, and they know that their times are up. Flame looked into Ember's eyes, which hold more love and courage than pain or fear, despite her broken body. Without a second thought, they kiss. Their maws to not separate until one of the creatures, a fat one with a massive sword, cleaves their heads from their bodies.

Their eldest daughter lets loose an anguished scream, but it quickly silenced by a blade. Spyro watches as his friends are murdered, and vows to avenge their deaths. He begins to slaughter his enemies, viciously murdering every dark creature he can see. The ones that killed his friends receive special, forgotten forms of elemental torture before the sweet release of death.

However, in his rampage, he neglects his duty as Commander. He does not keep a careful eye on the battlefield. This carelessness costs him. Everything.

Upon tearing the head from a gigantic abomination, he hears a pained scream. However, the sound does not come from his victim. It comes from elsewhere, and makes his blood go cold.

He turns, and his eyes go wide as seven tall, lean figures armed with katana surrounded Cynder. She is bloody and powerless, her use of powerful abilities having drained her. Spyro rockets forward, wind enhancing his speed. However, just as he would have reached her, the tallest of the samurai-like creatures grins and, with a wicked grace, cuts her throat.

Spyro stops completely, out of shock. His eyes go wide as he sees the life drain from his mate. He feels her presence leave his soul, replaced by a maelstrom of rage and agonizing grief. The monsters descend, and one of them reached a hand out to her corpse.

Spyro would not allow it to happen. He flies, all of his pain and rage concentrated into his limitless powers. Using the elements of wind, electricity, and earth, he creates a catastrophic storm. It follows him, obliterating everything he passes. It tears the flesh from his enemies with supersonic wind, burns them to ashes with mighty lightning, and crushes them with cataclysmic earthquakes.

As he slaughters his foes, the only caution in his shattered mind is to avoid harming Cynder's body. The small eye of the storm is barely large enough to protect her, as is destroys everything else.

The storm grows larger and larger, until it covers the entire valley of Avalar. Then, a blinding flash of light, and nothing.

And once there is only darkness, the purple dragon wakes up.

* * *

**CONVEXITY**

* * *

Spyro awoke with a start, a loud gasp/yelp emanating from his panicked maw as he clawed at the bed below him. However, a familiar paw pressed against his heaving chest, bringing a calm over him that only two people were capable of creating.

"Spyro," whispered the black-scaled female as she rubbed his armorlike chest-scales. "Are you alright?" He looked into her emerald eyes, and saw naught but concern. She always worried for him, and with good reason. He had been acting strangely for months.

It had been six years since they became Guardians. Just over five years since they became parents. They had gone through a difficult time three years after their daugter, Io, was born, as they tried to have a second child. Sadly, the egg never hatched, and was eventually given up on and donated to a group of monks. The monks had devoted their lives to studying and attempting to hatch these seemingly dead eggs, determined that they were alive, but dormant. Unfortunately, there was no luck thus far.

Cynder had been hit particularly hard by this, and went into a severe depression for months. At her lowest point, many discussed detaining her for her own safety, but she would not allow it. Spyro made sure to be with her constantly as not only a source of comfort, but as a guardian, to ensure that she did not bring harm to herself as a result of her grief.

Eventually, she was brought back from her depression, but not before making a large decision. Determined to never risk experiencing something like that again, she convinced Spyro to weave a spell that would prevent her from developing another egg. He was reluctant, but ultimately agreed, to make her happy again. He made sure to create the spell in such a way that would allow it to be rescinded, if she ever wished it to be.

Now, three years later, things were seemingly normal again. However, these dreams had been occurring more frequently, and growing more vivid. He knew not the source.

"Of course," he lied, actually quite troubled. However, he hated when she worried for him. He rolled onto his side, draping a wing around the slightly smaller dragoness. Bringing his forepaw to rest on her cheek, he smiled warmly. "I'm always alright when you're here."

Cynder smiled back at him, placing her paw on his. Her smile faded as she stared into his eyes. "Spyro, if something's wrong, tell me. I want to help you." He considered telling her about his visions, but refrained. Besides, he had been cursed with nightmares for years. Who could say that these were any different?

"Just some bad dreams," he stated, a slight smile spread across his tired face. "I think it might be because of how much I've been stressing my magic use these past few weeks." One of the many pieces of knowledge put into his mind by the dying Ardan taught him that prolonged use of magic could result in some side-effects. Among head-aches, cramps, and nausea, there was the nightmare. The more rigorous the magic usage, the worse the nightmare. However, it was also possible for the same use of magic to cause a detailed premonition, though that was almost unheard of.

Right now, Spyro didn't want to think too hard on it. He was lying in a comfortable bed, in a massive house, with a beautiful dragoness in his arms. There was too much positive in his life to pollute it with negative thoughts.

"Hey, I've been thinking about something," began the purple dragon, desperate to change the subject.

"Oh?" asked Cynder, readily avoiding the subject of nightmares. She had been cursed with far too many to waste time talking about them. "And what would that be?"

"Io is excelling far beyond anyone her age at school," he stated. "Even with her condition, Aiur tells me that she's the strongest energy manipulator he's ever taught." Io was plagued with an extremely rare condition called "Emotional Surge Syndrome," or more commonly known "Impulse Syndrome." Exactly as it sounds, ESS causes the victim to suffer from surges of raw, elemental power triggered by strong emotions.

"Yeah," agreed Cynder. "She's been doing great.

"And with the guard organized the way you have it, crime just doesn't happen." Cynder was very proud of her work as the captain of the Warfang guard. She enjoyed the praise, but was curious as to where Spyro was going with this.

"Yeah. And?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could all just... go away for a few days. Escape it all." The Guardians were entitled to briefs times away, as each had a replacement ready. Still, Cynder was surprised. Spyro, as High Guardian, was far more involved in his job than most. It was surprising that he would choose to take a leave.

"Really?" asked Cynder. "Just go? Are you certain that we can do that?"

"Yes," answered the Purple Dragon. "It's not like we're leaving secretly. Safire and Django can take over for us while we're gone. Io's teachers are fine with it, seeing how far ahead she is."

Cynder was silent for several moments. She was mentally reviewing every report se had read over the last few days. Things were going perfectly, and her system was designed to work just as smoothly in her absence (a system which she would never admit to be directly modeled after Malefor's, who did not care in the least for his lieutenant's lives).

"Alright," she agreed.

* * *

"Mommy, where are we going?" Young Io was still very tired, having been woken up very early, compared to her usual hour. She was lying flat on her father's massive back, somehow avoiding the spikes.

"We're going on a trip, sweetheart," answered Cynder, falling back slightly to look her daughter in the groggy eyes

"Why?"

"Because we've all been working very hard and daddy thinks we need a break." Cynder reached up and licked her daughter lightly on the cheek. "Don't worry. We'll be there soon." She actually had no idea where they were going. She had left the navigation to Spyro.

"Yes, we will," stated the purple dragon, as he looked forward. They were on a small, dirt path in a forest. Io was still too young to keep up with them in the air, even at their slowest, so they had to walk.

It began to rain lightly. Spyro growled as one of the droplets sizzled against his scales, irritating him immensely. Luckily, the canopy was thick enough to keep the rain off of them.

After only a few minutes of walking, the forest gave away to a tall cliff, with a sprawling valley below. What dominated the valley blew Cynder away, and was even enough to wake Io completely.

A massive, solitary mountain rose from the center of the valley, reaching into the clouds overhead. Floating chunks of land hovered around it, waterfalls trailing off of them from the rain. On those islands lay what appeared to be a city. They could see hundreds of dragons flying around, over, and under the islands. Near the peak of the mountain was a magnificent castle.

"S-Spyro?" said Cynder, nearly at a loss for words. "Where are we?" She looked over to see a wide smile on Spyro's face.

"Welcome to Whiteclaw, Warfang's sister city. Known for the training of wind dragons and energy dragons." He looked at little Io.

"They are also rumored to be able to cure Impulse Syndrome."

* * *

**There you have it! **Trust me, it'll get real good soon. Shit's gonna go DOWN!


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome**

* * *

They had descended the cliff, all the while Spyro describing the city. It was nearly as ancient as Warfang, and functioned as more of a cultural capital than a governmental or military one, such as its brother city. The weak, disabled, or very young dragons had fled to Whiteclaw, and were protected by the minor Guardians. Due to this, said Guardians were unable to teach Spyro their own elements.

After spending so long in the city, the minor Guardians decided to remain, sending letters to Warfang to give their consent and agreement to being replaced.

Autumn, the old Wind Guardian, had sent Spyro a formal invitation to their city, and offered to teach him to harness her element. She also mentioned Carver, the former Dark Guardian, and Leva, the ex-Energy Guardian, who could teach both Cynder and Io.

Young Io was the subject of great interest in Autumn's letter. As not only an incredibly rare energy elemental, but one with Impulse Syndrome, she was capable of wielding inconceivable amounts of power. While this could be useful, the risks were far too high to go unchecked. She would need to be cured of her ailment soon, before her powers began to manifest properly.

Elemental manifestation began at age twelve, and would continue until death. Even more powerful dragons like Spyro and Cynder were only in their mid-twenties, and nowhere near as powerful as they would be after a century. With age, comes power, which is exactly why the old Guardians were so... old.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"How old is grandpa?" Spyro and Cynder immediately looked at each other, desperately trying to hold in their laughter at the question. They failed, and their glee echoing across the valley. Io cocked her head in confusion, her inquiry seeming perfectly reasonable and serious in her own eyes.

"I don't really know, honey," responded Spyro. "I don't think even he remembers." Io grew even more confused, especially when their laughing became more pronounced, but it was quickly buried in nervousness upon noticing the people who had amassed to greet them. She understood that her parents were famous, but never quite got used to the crowds. This city was no different, as many exotic-looking dragons and other creatures gathered at the entrance to greet them. One they reached the base of the mountain, a single, grey-scaled female stepped forward. The wind seemed to gust as she stopped before Spyro, bowing her head in respect.

In the years since his becoming the High Guardian, Spyro had grown to his full size, perfectly matching the height and length of Cyril. Along with his increased size, more frills and horns had begun to protrude from his back and head. A single, shining spike shot from his chin, which was becoming quite common amongst his newly-matured generation.

His powers had grown, as well. However, unlike his body, they had a long way to go before coming close to matching the elders. Regardless, as time moved on, his elemental prowess was growing exponentially. He could spew flame for hours, lift massive boulders with hardly an effort, call down powerful lightning bolts, and freeze entire lakes solid.

He had matured mentally, as well. As he spent many nights looking through the pools of knowledge stored within him by the dying wolf, he learned much about the world's history, the secrets of the elements, and many other topics. However, the further he dove into the memories, the harder it became to make sense of them. Some were completely locked away, and nothing he did could unlock them. He suspected that they were memories that the old wolf's mind had suppressed, being either too painful or too dangerous.

All of this growth made the elder dragon seem strangely small to Spyro. His preconceptions of Guardians stemmed from when he first met Ignitus, making him expect massive, ancient dragons. However, as he matched that size, everyone seemed tiny. It was an odd feeling, not having to look up at one's elder.

"Greetings, Spyro," she said in a smooth, breathy voice. "Welcome to Whiteclaw." She glanced at the onlookers that had congregated behind her. "I apologize. Somehow, word of your arrival escaped into the city. You have many admirers, young dragon."

Two other dragons approached, one black-scaled male and a grey-scaled female. Carver and Leva, no doubt.

"Many thanks, Mistress Autumn. It is good to see the city so full of our kind, once more." Spyro bowed deeply, his polite mannerisms amusing Cynder. He had changed greatly over the years to nearly everyone else, but retained his old behaviors when around herself, Io, and his close friends. She had almost forgotten his "Guardian speech," as she had taken to calling it.

"Indeed, it is." Autumn looked beyond him, at Cynder and Io. "And this must be your family." She laughed lightly as Io crawled underneath her mother, intimidated by the ex-Guardian's gaze.

"Do not fear, young one," she reassured. "I will not hurt you." She smiled warmly, bringing the tiny dragoness out of her hiding place. She then looked back to Cynder, her smile fading.

"Greetings, Cynder," she said. "I trust in the judgement of the purple dragon, and of Terrador, Cyril, Volteer, Ignitus, and Ardan. Therefor, I am convinced that you are deserving of a second chance." She bowed her head briefly, and returned to her companions without giving Cynder a chance to reply.

"We have prepared a temporary abode for you," informed Carver, in a deep, throaty voice. "Well, Leva did."

"Oh, shut it," exclaimed the grey dragoness, in a quick, energetic tone. "I made a good choice and you know it, Broody."

"Call me that again," growled the large male, "see what happens." Leva grinned at his annoyance, getting ready to repeat herself, when Autumn interrupted.

"Not now, you two," she said. "You can wait until after we've settled our guests to tear each other apart." She smiled at her companions, before gesturing for her guests to follow.

They walked for some time, ascending the many stairs of the mountain. Mist concealed the valley below by the time they reached the lowest island. Autumn explained that it was the residential district, the largest island in Whiteclaw. They crossed a sturdy, wooden bridge, and marveled at the city. The dragons here were strange-looking, with oddly-colored scalds and different proportions. Unlike the dragons of Warfang, many of then dressed in loose garments, designed for aesthetics rather than protection.

The buildings were different, too. Fashioned not from familiar marble and stone, but strange, unknown substances. Spyro was never quite sure what he was looking at, here. Eventually, they reached a single, tall tower in what seemed to be the center of the island.

"Leva will lead you the rest of the way. Carver and I have other business to attend to. We will see you all tomorrow." With that, the two older dragons shot into the air, leaving quickly. Leva, who looked to be the youngest they had met, beamed at the small family. Her grey scales shone brilliantly alongside her bright, blue eyes. Spyro had never seen anyone quite like this woman. So full of youthful joy, but nearly ancient in age.

"Come, come," she said, motioning for them to follow. "Welcome to the Tower of the Sun." They began to ascend the tower, which somehow seemed much bigger from the inside.

"Most of this tower serves as a place of meditation and worship. However, the top floor is exclusively a temporary residence for visitors of import, such as yourselves. We have enchantments set to eliminate any and all sounds coming from within the top room, so as to allow peace and quiet for the people downstairs. Carver himself set the enchantments when Volteer first visited. I can say from experience that you could set off several explosions in that room and no one would hear.

"Of course, there may come a time when you need assistance. In case of emergency, ring one of three bells in the room. They will alert one of the men or women that work below." They finally arrived at the room.

"I must leave you to explore the place," she said. "We will begin our work tomorrow. Autumn seems certain that our plans will succeed." With that, she left them.

Spyro opened the door, revealing a massive, ornate room. Tan walls decorated with bronze and gold, metal ornaments alongside various-colored rugs and hides made it appear extremely exotic. There were three doorways out of the main room, leading to two bedrooms and washroom. Yes, dragons use washrooms. Is it so surprising?

Anyway, of the three of them, Io was the most excited to explore the room. She was literally glowing with joy at finally having something interesting to look around. Due to her condition, she had been mostly confined to home and school, rarely allowed to go out and never without one of her parents. This was one of the most exciting things to ever happen to her. The prospect of being free from these burdens amplified her ecstasy.

"Mommy,Daddy, , , ,butnotthescarymanhe'stooscary-" she began to gasp for breath, her bright eyes dulling for a moment as she paused. Spyro chuckled, glad to see her so happy. However, he also noticed her powers acting up.

"Honey, I need you to calm down," said Cynder, beating him to it. "You know what happens when you get too excited." Io's smile faded, replaced by a slight frown. Both Spyro and Cynder hated reminding the young girl of her condition, but understood that something this dangerous allowed no room for evasion.

"Okay," murmured Io, letting out a small sob. The tiny sound broke Cynder's heart every time she heard it, which was certainly not an easy thing to do. As a mother, she had discovered many new weaknesses that revolved around her daughter. One of them being that she simply could not stand her daughter crying.

"Oh, sweetheart," she crooned, draping a wing over her daughter, "it's okay. Daddy's been working to find a way to fix all of this, so you can be like the rest of the children." And have the childhood that Cynder never could. Thankfully, her smile returned, her mother's words calming her emotions.

"Okay," she said, before walking away to explore their temporary home. It was rather large, making Spyro feel uncomfortable. He was still not quite used to always receiving the best, and was not quite sure if he wanted to be. Cynder felt the same, but reminded him that it was better that they be in this room than no one.

* * *

A few hours later, they were all fed and ready to sleep. Tomorrow would likely be a long one, and they would need their energy. Io was in her bed, which was obviously built for a much larger dragon. She took up only a small portion of the mattress, which was extremely soft. She curled up, smiling up at her father as he dragged the large blanket over her. Whiteclaw, due to its altitude and location, was much colder than Warfang. Io quickly pulled in the blanket, piling the almost comically large sheet on herself.

"Goodnight, baby girl." He touched his snout to her forehead, earning a light giggle from the tiny dragoness. When he went to exit the room, she called after him.

"Daddy," she called, prompting him to turn around.

"Yes, Io?"

"Can they really fix me?" Spyro gulped, unsure of what to say. There was always a chance that it wouldn't work. He didn't want to disappoint her, but he also didn't want her to have to fear failure.

"Indeed, I believe so," he answered.

"Promise?" she asked.

"Promise." He hated promises. The prospect of a failed oath made his skin crawl.

"Okay," said the dragoness, her voice calm. She believed in her father with all her heart. He would never lie to her. Never break a promise.

* * *

"She's doing well," stated Spyro, as he crawled into bed alongside his mate. "She made me promise that this will all work out, though."

"It will," assured Cynder. "If you trust these people, then I'm sure that they can do this." She leaned in and kissed the larger male, smiling into his amethyst eyes. They were both exhausted, and barely had time to say "goodnight" before falling asleep.

Unfortunately for Spyro, the dreams returned that night. With a vengeance.


End file.
